


Dance Macabre

by noladyme



Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fun, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noladyme/pseuds/noladyme
Summary: The road so far...After years of them taking care of her, training her, and loving her like family; Lulu would do anything for Dean and Sam. When Dean asks her for help, she agrees; even though it means working with the B-Moles - and putting on a ridiculous dress. Again.Oyr story continues towards the end of season 12.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s) (Platonic)
Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007559
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

_The music is pumping – as if it is moving the blood through his veins. Bryce can’t believe his luck. This beautiful girl has spent most of the night dancing with_ him _of all people._

_She hands him another drink, and he tries to savor the taste, but fails – throwing it back like a shot – it’s just too tasty.  
“Dance!”, she exclaims; throwing her arms around his neck. He follows her onto the floor again, his feet beginning to hurt from how many times she’s twirled him around there – but he wants to keep going. Wants to dance, forever._

_She holds on to his hands, spinning and spinning. His legs begin to feel stiff, and his chest is aching. The pain spreads into his arm, and he looks down at it; seeing that his hand suddenly looks different – wrinkly and old._

_He should go home now, sleep it off – but the girl won’t let go.  
“Dance!”, she demands, and the music is still oh so enticing. He might as well. He is just so happy. And dizzy.  
Spots form before his eyes, and he begins to lose his breath. Wiping sweat of his brow; his skin feels different – more wrinkled than he remembers it._

_It is as if someone grabs a hold of his heart, and squeezes it hard. His chest hurts, everything hurts, and then – darkness._

\---

Warm breath on the back of my neck. A set of strong arms holding me tight. My body was completely enveloped by the memory foam mattress under me, and the safe embrace of the man, who’s appendage was very much awake, and poking at my bottom.  
I felt a hand traveling up my thigh, and gently stroking the skin a few inches below the apex of my thighs.  
“I’m sleeping”, I whispered.  
“No, you’re not”, Dean’s dark voice chuckled.  
“I just got in 5 hours ago”, I rasped. “I still smell like ghoul breath”.  
“You smell awesome”, he breathed; leaving small kisses on my neck. He moved his hand higher, tracing his finger along the edge of my panties; while his other hand moved my hair out of the way, to give him access to my earlobe.

“You were gone for two weeks”, he whispered. “I missed you”. He moved his hips closer to my backside.  
“I can tell”, I smiled.  
“You should have woken me up when you got in”, he grunted, letting his finger slide under the fabric of my underwear, and run through my curls.  
“You looked so peaceful”, I sighed; relishing in the sensation of his touch. “And I needed to sleep… still do”.  
Dean groaned.  
“Sleep after”, he said.  
“Dean…”, I breathed.

Running his fingers between my folds, Dean let out a pleased sigh, when he found them wet.  
“This feels promising…”, he chuckled. He began running his finger up and down; tracing my labia, and stroking over my clit every time he reached it. I was beginning to breathe shallowly, and my nipples perked against the t-shirt I’d put on before crawling under the sheets with my sleeping lover, a few hours before.  
Dean moved his free arm down, and around my torso, grabbing my breast; and holding me flush against him.  
“I’m exhausted”, I muttered; though wanting him to continue.  
“I’ll do all the work”, Dean whispered, and kissed the skin at the crook of my neck. “Just a quickie…”.  
I laughed softly.  
“You suck at quickies”.  
Dean paused for a moment.  
“Thank you”, he said smugly. I chuckled, and he continued his stroking of my privates.

I was breathing raggedly, and I swallowed hard.  
“Ok… ok, just… oh, wow; that’s nice”, I croaked. Dean moved his hand from my warmth, and tugged at my panties, to move them down over my butt. I reached back to pull at his boxers; and Dean’s erection made contact with my bare skin.  
He grabbed himself, and I arched my back, to give him access to my entrance. With a choked sigh, Dean pushed into me, and began swaying his hips softly – thrusting. His fingers found my nub again, and he stroked at me, making my walls begin to quake around him.

“You like this?”, Dean asked behind me.  
“Uh huh…”, I breathed. He thrusted into me a bit deeper, and I whimpered.  
“I love that sound”, Dean chuckled; his finger now going in circles over my clit. I let out a deep sigh, trying to catch my breath properly. “You feel so good… Breathe, baby. Let it happen”.

Dean was filling me perfectly, in the way only he’d ever been able to do. He went soft, treating me as if I was fragile as glass, but still managed to draw me closer to my undoing.  
My legs began shaking, and before long my orgasm washed over me. Dean rode on my wave, and came to his own climax soon after.

He shucked his t-shirt to clean us both off; and then cupped my chin, to kiss me gently.  
“Can I sleep now?”, I croaked. He smiled warmly at me.  
“No round two?”.

I was already dozing off.

\---

When I woke again, Dean was gone. I got out of bed, feeling in a good mood from a hunt well ended, and a morning spent in the arms of a gorgeous man. Putting on leggings and a t-shirt, I went to face the day.  
I followed the sound of thuds to the gym, and peeked inside. Dean was hitting on of the punching bags with an ancient looking javelin.

“You trying to kill that thing?”, I laughed. “Don’t poke any holes in it, it’s my favorite thing in here”.  
Dean looked startled to see me.  
“Hey… Yeah. Just blowing off some steam”, he muttered.  
“I thought you did that this morning”, I smirked. Dean let out a soft chuckle.  
“It wasn’t a bad way to start the day”, he said. He put down the javelin, and walked over to me with a smug smile; slipping an arm around me, to pull me with him. “Let’s go back to bed”.  
“Nuh uh”, I chuckled. “Now you got me in the mood for something else”.

I slipped under his arm, and took a fighting stance.  
“Give it your best shot”, I challenged.  
Dean blew out a deep breath.  
“No, I’m… You just got back from Idaho…”, he muttered. I frowned.  
“Come on!”, I smiled. “It’s been ages since we sparred… Don’t you wanna test my skills? Make sure I’m up to speed?”.  
Dean ran a ran over his face.  
“Actually, I need to run to the store”, he said. “We’re out of some… stuff”. He stepped over, and pecked my lips, before almost running out of the room.  
“You’re just scared I’ll rail your ass!”, I called after him. He looked over his shoulder at me, and gave me a slight smile.

I made my way down the hall, to go get some coffee. Sam was pouring himself a cup in the kitchen when I got there.  
“Hey! Didn’t hear you come in”, he smiled, handing me the cup. “How was Idaho?”.  
“Cold, dirty; and smelled like rotten flesh”, I sighed. “At least the places I hung out in did”.  
Sam winced.  
“Ghoul?”.  
“Ghouls”, I corrected him. “Three of them”.  
“Did you have help?”, Sam asked.  
“I texted Eileen, when it turned out there was more than two”, I said, and took a sip of coffee. It was weak, and I frowned at the cup. Sam cleared his throat nervously.  
“How’s she doing?”, he asked. “After what happened with that English guy…”.  
I met his eyes, and gave him a slight smile.  
“She’s better. Seemed to be happy to get back to work”, I said. “You should text her. She asked about you…”.  
He chuckled breathily.  
“I’ll… yeah…”.

“You have anything going on here?”, I asked.  
“We’re pretty focused on finding Kelly right now. Nearing due-date”, Sam sighed. He looked like he needed sleep.  
“You know, sleep clears the mind, Sam”, I smiled. “You need to rest sometimes”.  
“Yeah”, Sam nodded. “But this thing is… Apocalypse material. The world could potentially have a Nephilim on its hands in about a month”.

I chewed my lips.  
“And… we’re sure that’s bad?”, I asked. Sam had poured another cup for himself, and we sat down by the table.  
“I mean, it’s a _Nephilim_ ”, Sam exclaimed. “One of the strongest creatures known to man…”.  
“But it’s not, though”, I said.  
“Not what?”, Sam asked.  
“Known to man… there’s never been one before, right?”. I sipped at my coffee.  
“Not that we know of”, Sam shrugged.  
I leaned my chin in my hand.  
“If a Nephilim means the end of the world, there’s obviously never been one before, because…”. I gestured generally around me. “And seeing as there’s never been one before; how do we know for sure it’s evil, or even any kind of bad?”.  
“It’s Lucifer’s kid…”, Sam muttered.  
“Our parents don’t have to define us…”, I shrugged.  
Sam narrowed his eyes at me, and seemed to ponder my words.

“Where’s Dean?”, he asked.  
“Supply run. We must be out of coffee”, I responded, wincing at the weak excuse for caffeine, I was drinking.  
“Tea, actually”, a familiar voice said behind me.  
“Hello, Mick”, I sneered; giving Sam a cold glare. “I didn’t realize you were here…”.

I wasn’t exactly pleased that the guys had decided to work with the B-Moles, in spite of our former ordeals with them. I myself had made it perfectly clear, that I had no intention of doing any kind of hunt involving them.

“Yeah, well; I had some things to discuss with the lads. Better off doing it in person”, he smiled. “How are you, my lo…”.  
“Don’t”, I said.  
“What? We’re not doing nicknames anymore, Lou?”, he chuckled.  
I gave him a putrid stare.  
“You don’t call me that. Only two people do, and one of them is dead”, I snarled; before giving Sam an apologetic look. “I’m gonna go to the shooting range”.

I left the room quickly, thinking to myself that I should have taken up Walt’s offer of tagging along on his planned salt and burn in Montana, in stead of returning home.  
Grabbing a .38 from its hangings on the wall, I loaded it with regular bullets, and went over to the range. The back wall still showed evidence of my first attempt at explosive cross bolts; and I was reminded of Ketch, and how he’d taught me to make safer bolts. That in turn, reminded me of how he and Mick had kept me from going back home sooner – reuniting with my family, and the man I loved – and I aimed at the human shaped targets, and fired.  
I missed the head by a few inches, and cursed internally.

“Spread your legs more”, Dean said from behind me. He stepped up behind me, and put his hands on my shoulders. “Relax, and breathe out as you shoot”.  
I lowered the gun.  
“That was a quick supply run…”, I muttered. “You didn’t tell me he was here”.  
“I didn’t think it was a great wake-up conversation”, he said. “I like the one we had more”. I leaned back against him, and he snaked his arms around my waist. “I know you hate that we’re working with them… for the record, I’m not exactly loving it either…”.  
“They kept me away from here… from home”, I said.  
“Yeah, they don’t really have a great track-record with us…”, Dean admitted. I put down the gun on the table in front of me, and turned to face him. “But, they’re still working with our mom… And if we want to keep her safe…”.  
“You think they’d hurt Mary?”, I asked.  
“Mick wouldn’t…”, Dean said. “But the rest of them… I don’t know”.

“Are my ears ringing?”, Mick smiled, entering the room. Sam came in behind him, looking glum. I turned around again, grabbed the gun, and fired at the target – hitting the crotch area with three perfect shoots. I smirked to myself. “You trying to tell me something?”, Mick asked.  
I handed the gun to Dean, who took out the clip, and put the gun back in place.  
“She’s not your biggest fan, Mick”, Dean said. “Neither am I”.  
“I understand”, Mick said. “I honestly do… But I _am_ trying to see and do things your way. In fact, that’s why I’m here”.

Sam sent Mick a wary look.  
“I told you…”, he began.  
“Just let me ask her myself”, Mick emphasized.  
“I don’t work for you anymore”, I muttered. “Save it”.  
Mick held up his hands in defeat.  
“I realize that; and I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need you, darling”.

Dean tensed up.  
“All right, that’s enough of the terms of endearment, Mick”, he growled.  
Mick chuckled.  
“Jealous? I think Lou made it quite clear to us both…”.  
“You don’t call her that!”, Dean snarled. “And you don’t call her darling or love. I don’t care where you come from. Here, it’s disrespectful. She’s a talented hunter, and you need her. Use her name”.  
“You call waitresses sweetheart all the time” Mick shrugged.  
“I’m adorable. I can get away with it”, Dean grunted.  
I felt a slight rush of blood to my core, and my cheeks reddened from being championed by one of the most respected hunters in the states; and also, lady-killer number one among them.

Mick sighed, and looked at me.  
“I meant no disrespect, Lulu”, he said. “I’m know my ways are different than yours; which might come off… ill-mannered…”. I sent Sam a bemused look.  
“Next thing you know, he’ll be offering me a hug”, I chuckled. “You guys keep bringing weird men into my life”. Mick looked confused.  
“She’s comparing you to an angel”, Sam smirked.  
“I’ll take that as a compliment”, Mick said.  
“Don’t”, Dean grunted.

I cleared my throat, trying to break through the macho tension in the room.  
“If we’re going to have a conversation with Mick, I suggest we move it to a room where we’re not surrounded by guns and…”. My eyes widened at something I hadn’t seen before; hanging on the wall. “Is that a bazooka?”.  
Dean smirked and nodded.  
“Another weapon you nicked from us”, Mick grunted. “But yeah, let’s move this to the library”.

Sam and Mick moved out the door and down the hallway. Before Dean could follow them, I pulled at his arm, and put it around my waist.  
“Did you mean what you said? Talented?”, I smiled.  
He narrowed his eyes at me.  
“Yes…”.  
“Are you trying to get in my pants again?”, I whispered.  
“Is it working?”, he muttered, looking down at me with a smug smile.  
I got on my toes, pulled at the collar of his shirt, to get him to lean down; so I could whisper in his ear. I brushed my lips against his cheekbone.  
“Oh, yeah”, I said. “I’m feeling _very_ respected”.  
As I pulled back, I ran a finger down his sternum. Dean let out a short breath.

Mick peeked into the room.  
“Are you two coming?”, he asked.  
“Was just about to”, Dean croaked.  
Mick walked back down the hall, and with a hold on my hips, Dean lead me to walk in front of him, muttering _baseball_ to himself all the way to the library. I loved having this kind of influence on him.

Ketch was waiting in the library.  
“Marvelous”, I sighed. “Lurch is here”.  
“Lovely to see you too, Ms. Moore”, Ketch lied.  
“Eat my shorts, Arthur”, I smirked. “Did you get the last message from Dean about Charlie and his family?”  
Ketch nodded.  
“Yes… And I have handled the transfer”.  
“Good”, I smiled.

Ketch seated himself by a table, and looked at me coldly.  
“You _do_ realize, now that we are in fact working with _all_ the Winchesters, your threat to turn every hunter in America against us, looks quite weak”.  
“They’re not the only ones with connections”, I shrugged. I looked at Dean, who’d sat himself down from across Ketch. “And besides, if they had to choose between you and me…”.  
“Oh, it would be you. No question”, Dean said. “Sam?”.  
“Lulu”, he agreed.  
“So, pissing me of further, would put you back to square one… and I’m sure that would be a right kerfuffle for you chaps”.  
“Do you have a problem with brits?”, Mick asked.  
“None what so ever!”, I smiled. “I just really don’t like you lot”.

I held out my hand, and Sam handed me a cup of coffee he’d brought from the kitchen.  
Mick looked on in wonder.  
“You all are so easy around each other”, he chuckled. “It’s like a well-oiled machine”.  
“It’s called family”, Sam said.

Ketch began spreading some papers across the table.  
“Chicago, Illinois”, he began.  
“I know where Chicago is”, I said, sitting down at the table, next to Dean. Mick slid a printed-out article towards me.  
“Nine people have gone missing after visiting the same club, in the three months, since it opened”, he said. “Three of them reappeared a week later; aged beyond their years, emaciated, dehydrated and unable to speak of what had happened to them. The others turned up dead, from age related heart attacks. They were all in their late twenties and early thirties, but appeared much older when found …”.

“What are you thinking?”, I asked. I couldn’t help but be intrigued by a case this strange.  
Sam took a deep breath.  
“Some years ago, we went up against a witch, who played poker for years… of people’s lives”, he said.  
“Yeah, I heard. Bobby told me about geriatric Dean”, I smirked. The older brother cleared his throat embarrassedly. “You thinking it’s happening again?”.  
“Might be”, Mick said.

I ran a hand through my hair, and sighed.  
“And what do you need me for?”, I asked.  
“Well, if it _is_ him, he’s met Sam and Dean before”, Mick said.  
“And this isn’t a situation in which we should only send in one person”, Ketch muttered. “I will need backup”. He seemed to choke on the words.

My jaw dropped.  
“You want me to go with _you_?”, I exclaimed. “No way. I told you, I’m not working with or for you people again”. Mick looked at me empathetically.  
“This witch doesn’t know you”, he said. “He lost his lover back when he met these boys. He might be looking for someone to sweeten his time… Ketch can get you in the club; you get close to him, and then he and the lads here will finish him off”.  
“Close to him…”, I said. “Meaning?”. All four men looked down. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re using me as bate? As sexual bate!”.

I stood up with such force, the chair fell over.  
“Told you this would happen”, Dean said.  
“You’re asking me to sleep with him…”, I began with a roar.  
“Not sleep with him”, Sam said.  
My jaw dropped.  
“You two are in on this?”, I hissed.  
“We didn’t want you to go with them alone”, he muttered.

I stomped out of the room, enraged and hurt. I made my way to the gym, and straight to the punching bag; which I began beating at with a fervor. I heard Dean enter behind me; knowing it was him from the sound of his steps. He’d wanted me to hear him – possibly worried I’d begin throwing punches at him, if he’d snuck up on me.  
“Lou…”, he began.  
“Not a good time”, I hissed; and landed a kick at the side of the bag – making it swing back and forth.  
“For what it’s worth, I don’t like this any more than you do”, he said.  
“But?”, I said, turning to face him.  
“But… It might be our only chance to take him down”, Dean replied. “He’s killing people”.  
“And you want me flirting with him… use my feminine charms to make him vulnerable; is that it?”. I shook my head in exasperation. “That’s what they were trying to do to you… Use me to…”. I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Dean took a deep breath.  
“Look, this thing… it’s on Sam and me”, he said. “We let this witch go on nothing but a promise; which is just what the B-Moles are using against us every time they need something to hold over our heads… That we let monsters go”.  
“So you want me to do it for _you_?”, I asked. Dean stepped forwards hesitantly.  
“I don’t want you throwing yourself at some man-witch, no…”, he said. “But we need you to get close to him…”.  
“Tell me this is for _you_ , and not for them”, I said quietly. He furrowed his brow, and nodded.  
“This _is_ for us. Me and Sam”, he said. “We need your help”.  
They _needed_ me – Dean did.  
“Ok. I’ll do it”, I said. “But I’m not working with Ketch”.

I went over to put my arms around him. He let out a choked grunt.  
“Not too close, baby. You have no idea what those tight pants does to me”, he croaked. I squeezed him tighter.  
“I could always take them off…”, I smirked. I grabbed his hand, and put it on my bottom. “Unless you want to do that yourself”.  
Dean’s lips parted and he seemed about to say something; but I halted him, by pressing my lips to his.  
“I’ll help you… But you’ll owe me”, I said.  
“What?”, he rasped.  
“I’m sure you’ll think of something… earthshattering”, I smirked. Dean raised his brows, and shrugged compliantly; before letting our lips meet again.

“I think I can come up with something sweet and romantic… Six-pack under the stars… Zeppelin 5 on the radio… “.  
I frowned softly.  
“Don’t get me wrong, I love that you’re back on board with car-sex again”, I smiled. “But the backseat of the Impala, doesn’t leave a lot of room for rough and tumble… “.  
He looked confusedly at me.  
“What, like different positions?“, he asked.  
I shrugged.  
“More like… room for you to put me in my place…”, I blushed. “It’s been a while…”.  
Something that looked strangely like fear ghosted Dean’s face.  
“Lou… I’m not… “, he began, when suddenly, we had company.

“Hello”, Mick said from the door. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but we need to know if this is happening or not”.  
I sighed.  
“I’ll do it…”, I said. “But Ketch is out”.

\---

Thrilled to avoid any further work with me, Mr. Ketch had sprung at the opportunity to get back to the brits’ HQ. His associate on the other hand, insisted on joining us for some reason – but not wanting to risk me stabbing Mick with my blade, in the back seat of his car; Dean suggested he take a plane and meet us in Chicago.

The drive took a little under a day, with breaks. Sam and Dean took turns driving. No matter how much he trusted me as a hunter, Dean – at this point – still didn’t trust me behind the wheel of his car. It gave me time to look over the files on the case.

“Why are the brits on this?”, I asked, once we entered Illinois.  
“They just stumbled on it, apparently”, Sam replied.  
“You believe that?”, I asked; looking closely at one of the coroner’s pictures, of one of the deceased victims.  
“Not by a long shot”, Dean said. “But – like I said – if this _is_ Patrick, we need to be there to take him down… It’s on us”.

The picture I was looking at, showed the legs and feet of the victim.  
“Huh…”, I muttered.  
“What?”, Dean asked.  
“The feet…”, I said. “They’re black and blue, and bruised… Kind of look like mine would after training roller derby up to a game”. Dean sent me a look through the mirror.  
Sam reached back, and took the picture from me. I rested my chin and arms on the front seat backrest.  
“This would be after _one_ game?”, he asked in disbelief.  
“No”, I smiled. “But weeks of training every day”. Sam furrowed his brows.  
“They do look pretty beat up”, he muttered. “Mick called while you were sleeping, by the way. There’s been another one. Bryce Cochran. Dead”.  
“We should go check out the corpse”, I said.

We arrived in Chicago around noon, pulling up to a hotel Mick had made reservations in. I was feeling quite out of place in my jeans and band-shirt; when everyone else – save Dean and Sam – were in suits or other more expensive looking clothes than me.  
“They better serve beer in this joint”, Dean muttered; making me smile, and feel more relaxed.

Mick was waiting for us just inside.  
“I only booked three rooms”, he said; looking between me and Dean. “I take it that will be enough…”.  
“No suites?”, I jeered.  
“Sorry, my lady. They were fresh out”, Mick smirked. “Though they are right next door to each other. I took the one in the middle”.  
“You’re going to regret that”, Sam smiled. Mick looked confusedly at him, but Sam ignored his expression. “Lulu wants to go check out the corpse of the newest victim”.  
Mick lead us towards the elevator, and pressed the button.  
“You sure that’s necessary? We know who the target is already”.  
“Just humor me”, I sighed, and stepped out of the elevator when it landed on our floor.  
“Right… Let’s meet up in 30 minutes, downstairs”, Mick said, and handed Dean our key.

Our room was bright, clean, modernly furnished; and just a little smaller than the motel rooms I’d been in before – considering the fact that it didn’t have a kitchen. The bed was made up with white sheets, and had a piece of chocolate on each pillow; which Dean promptly snatched up, and placed in his pocket. I raised a brow at him, and he sullenly took one of them out, giving it to me.  
“You think they’ll notice if I grab a few towels?”, he asked; going in to the bathroom. “Ooh! A tub!”. He peeked out, and wiggled his brows at me.  
“Are you enjoying yourself?”, I smiled, dropping my bag on the floor. He came back out of the bathroom, and threw himself on the bed.  
“I am”, he grinned; and reached for my hand – yanking me down on the bed. “And I will”.

He attacked my neck with kisses, and groped for my breast. I giggled, and let him have at it. Soon, my jeans had disappeared somewhere, and Dean was making his way down my belly with kisses; when his phone rang. He groaned, and picked up the call, putting it on speaker when he saw Mick’s name on the screen.  
“Speaker, Mick…”, he grunted.  
“I was wondering what our cover would be at the police department later…?”, Mick said. “I want to dress properly”.  
“Seriously? You interrupted us for fashion advice?”, Dean growled.  
“Where you in the middle of something?”, Mick asked. “You do realize we have a rendezvous in 20 minutes… “.  
Dean hung up without answering, and smiled at me apologetically.  
“Raincheck?”, he muttered. I pecked at his lips; and got off the bed.

After a quick shower – separately, to avoid getting lost in any activity that might take us too long – Dean and I dressed in fed-garb.  
Mick and Sam were waiting for us downstairs; and I gave Mick a death-glare.  
“Sorry for interrupting you before… But we do have a job to do”, he smiled.  
Sam pulled something out of his pocket, and handed it to Mick.  
“Almost forgot… seeing as you’re right next door to them”, he said. Mick held up the small packet, and looked confusedly at it. “Earplugs”, Sam smiled.  
Mick raised his brows.  
“That bad?”, he asked.  
“Worse”, Sam said, before clearing his throat. Dean looked smug; while I wanted to find a rock to hide under.

\---

Mick and Sam were speaking with the detective on the case, while Dean and I went down to see the victim.  
I’d come a long way since the first time I’d stepped into a morgue with Dean and Sam; though I still felt uncomfortable being surrounded by corpses. Dean grazed my lower back for a moment, before the coroner opened the hatch, and pulled out the body of Bryce Cochran.

The coroner narrowed his eyes at me.  
“Agent Kirkpatrick, are you alright?”, he asked. Dean gave him a friendly smile.  
“Bad shepherd’s pie”, he said. “You’ve examined all the bodies connected to this case?”.  
“The dead ones, yes”, the coroner said. “Never seen anything like it. It’s like they all aged from their late twenties or early thirties, to their seventies or eighties”.  
“Heart attacks?”, Dean said. The coroner nodded.  
“Seems like overexertion to me”, he responded.

I lifted the sheet from the body’s legs, and looked at the feet. The coroner chuckled.  
“Yeah, looks like he did a dance-marathon, doesn’t it…?”, he said. I looked at him confusedly. “My wife and I are the county marathon-dance championship winners – three years straight!”.  
“Congrats…”, I muttered. “Did any of the others show these bruises?”  
“They did, yeah”, the coroner said. “In the beginning I thought it was just how the bodies had been found – making the blood drop down to the feet, and creating the marks… but even the _bones_ of the feet showed evidence of violence in some manner. The toes were bent and cracked…”.  
“How _were_ they found?”, Dean asked. “The reports weren’t clear”.  
The coroner pulled out a file, and riffled through it.  
“Leaning against walls; with happy smiles on their faces”, he said; and lifted the sheet further. “Didn’t seem like they were able to bend their legs, and get into a seated position”. The knees of the body were knuckled, and the legs muscly.  
“Is there anything else, agents?”, the coroner asked. “I really need to get back to my work”.  
“We’re good”, Dean said. “Thanks”.

We left the morgue, to meet up with the others outside the police station.  
“That guy didn’t skip leg-day _once_ ”, Dean muttered, when we were outside in the afternoon sunshine.  
“Maybe”, I said. “Or maybe he had one _very_ intense workout”.

Sam and Mick met us by the car.  
“Get this, the three people found alive all had bruised feet as well”, Sam said.  
“Trouble sitting down?”, Dean asked.  
“Yeah, why?”, his brother retorted.  
“Just like the dead vics”, Dean muttered.

Mick sighed and shook his head.  
“I still don’t see what any of this has to do with Patrick”, he said.  
“Probably nothing”, I shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s him… Dean didn’t have any problem with his feet and legs after his ordeal”.  
“Might have grown a bit more bow-legged”, Sam chuckled.  
“Shut up, you 7-foot freak”, Dean grunted; and got behind the wheel of the Impala.

I got in the back seat with Mick; Sam taking his place – as usual – next to his brother. Dean drove us down the road.  
“I say we go back to the hotel, grab dinner; and get ready for a night of dancing and cheer”, Mick smiled. “As Mr. Ketch is out, I’ll be your date, darl… Lulu”.  
“Good save”, I muttered. “And don’t call it a date”.  
“Wouldn’t be our first one”, Mick chuckled. Dean swerved, and the car behind us honked its horn.  
“Recruiting me for evil Hogwarts with a free meal, doesn’t count”, I snarled.  
“I don’t know”, Mick smiled. “You did wear that lovely top, with the plunging neckline; and I bought you a drink”.  
“I will shoot you!”, I hissed.

\---

At the hotel – after dinner paid for by the B-Moles – I took another shower to wash off the creepy feeling of morgue. Dean was readying hex-bags in the room, when I came out; draped in an oversized hotel-towel.  
“You dig up corpses all the time. What is it with you and morgues?”, he smiled.  
“I don’t know… I guess old bones don’t bother me as much… And I’m putting spirits to rest usually”, I said. “Fresh corpses… They still look human”.  
He nodded, and tied up a small pouch – that smelled like old farts – dropping it on the bedside table.

I began unwrapping the towel; and Dean’s lips immediately drew bag in a wide grin, as he watched.  
“Really?”, I chuckled. “You’ve seen my naked butt more times than I can count”.  
“And every time is like Christmas”, Dean sighed delightedly. He stepped over, and grabbed the top of the towel, unwrapping it for me; as I put my arms around his neck. When the towel dropped to the floor, Deans hands found my bottom, and squeezed at it. “And my birthday… and the fourth of July… and Thanksgiving…”.  
I got on my toes, and pressed my lips to his.  
“The holiday of pies… wow”, I smiled.

Dean leaned his head, and brushed his lips against my neck. I gasped, and pressed myself against him. As he made to move his hands upwards, I halted him; by grabbing them, and squeezing his fingers at my bottom.  
“Please, Dean”, I pleaded breathily. I grabbed his shirt, and began pulling at it; wanting to be taken rough and hard.  
“Slow down, baby”, he whispered, stroking my cheek. “Let’s go nice and slow…”. I furrowed my brows in confusion.

There was a knock on the door.  
“It’s me”, Mick’s voice said.  
“If you don’t shoot him at the end of this, I will”, Dean growled. He handed me a robe, and I put it on, while he went to open the door.  
Mick’s face lit up when he saw me.  
“Wonderful! You haven’t dressed yet”, he said. Dean almost snarled. “I brought you something. Hope it’s your size”. He handed me a paper bag with a designer brand I didn’t recognize – probably expensive – printed on it.  
“What’s this?”, I asked.  
“Your… let’s call it costume, for the evening”, Mick smiled. I pulled up a bright green, shimmery piece of fabric from the bag. “The club has a dress code. I wasn’t sure if you’d brought anything fitting”.  
“You have a problem with my clothes now?”, I frowned.  
“None what so ever”, Mick exclaimed. “But Patrick is Irish, so… green”.  
“Thank you”, Dean said sarcastically, and pushed Mick back out of the door; closing it in his face.  
“I’ll be by the reception!”, the brit called from outside the door.

I held up the dress, trying to figure out the ups and downs of it.  
“How am I supposed to wear underwear with this?”, I grunted.  
“I think he’s hoping you don’t”, Dean growled.  
I linked my fingers with his.  
“Jealous?”, I smiled. “You know you don’t have any reason to be”.  
Dean clenched his jaw; and grunted nonsensically.

Finding some panties that wouldn’t show through the tight flimsy fabric; I held the dress against my body, and looked in the mirror.  
“Look at that! I _will_ be able to wear a bra…”. Dean smiled delightedly, and riffled through my bag, pulling out my most unattractive sports-bra. I pushed him away, and dug out a better suited one; one Dean usually liked – but now looked at with a sour expression. I kissed his cheek. “Get Sam, and go meet up with Mick”.  
“Don’t look too hot when you come downstairs”, he muttered.  
“Just go… tell Mick the many ways you’ll kill him if he tries anything”.  
He smirked slightly, and left the room.

30 minutes later, I was ready for a night of dancing. Realizing it had been a while since I’d gone to an actual club, I was nervous; and unsure whether it because of the unfamiliar scene, or the fact that I was going to see and possibly flirt with an ancient witch. I grabbed the tiny clutch that had come with the dress, and put my phone and my small .45 in it. With a final touch of lipstick, and boosting my hair up, I made my way downstairs.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I felt like I was in a bad movie, as Mick, Sam and Dean – as well as most every other man in the reception area – stared at me with wide eyes.  
I walked over to the guys, my cheeks blushing.  
“Do I have toilet-paper stuck to my shoe?”, I asked.  
“You… no”, Dean said. “You look really…”.  
“You look like a goddess in green. Simply extraordinary”, Mick said.  
“That”, Dean agreed.  
“Eloquent”, Mick muttered.  
“Let’s get this over with”, I sighed.

As we’d need to take separate cars, Mick had rented a brand new, red Mustang. I leaned down, to check my teeth in the side mirror, when Dean came over to stand behind me.  
“What?”, I asked, as he put a hand on my hip.  
“Don’t bend over…”, he muttered.  
“Is it that short?”, I whispered.  
“No, but it’s… really tight”, he croaked. “I told you _not_ to look too hot…”. I smiled embarrassedly.

Sam handed me a hex-bag, and I put it in my purse.  
“We’ll be in the back alley of the club”, Sam said. “If anything at all seems off, call us!”.  
“I will”, I said.  
“We’ll be fine, chaps”, Mick smiled, and opened the door to the car for me. I got in, and smiled one final time at Dean and Sam. The older brother looked worried out of his mind; an expression that didn’t let up, when Mick decided to wink at him, before starting the Mustang, and racing down the road.

We arrived in front of a building covered in flashing neon; and Mick opened the door for me – giving me a hand to get out – before giving the keys of the car to a happy looking valet. The sun had gone down, and the night sky was filled with stars.  
“Smile, poppet”, Mick muttered at me, as we went towards the doors of the club. “We’re supposed to be on a date”.  
“And I’m supposed to flirt with someone else. So it’s a bad date”, I hissed. I felt my phone vibrate in my purse, and checked the message.  
- _In the alley. S._  
“They’re ready to go”, I muttered. Mick nodded.

With the wave of a crisp couple of bills, Mick and I skipped the line, and stepped inside the club. I was immediately overwhelmed by the bass pumping, and the amount of people, all dressed to the nines. A masked DJ was bouncing up and down on a podium, and people were grinding all over the dancefloor.  
“Drink?”, Mick called over the music.  
“Make it virgin. We’re here to work”, I replied.  
“Live a little”, he grinned; and led me to the bar. He ordered two brightly colored drinks, and I held my glass in my hand; unsure what to do with myself.

My eyes wandered around the room. Everywhere, people were smiling and partying. At the end of the bar, a pair of pretty girls were trying to pull a dark-haired man onto the dance floor. He smiled congenially at them, and shook his head. He met my eyes, and raised his drink at me. I smiled, and nodded at him.  
“What does Patrick look like?”, I asked Mick.  
“He could look like anyone at this point”, he said. “If he’s in hiding, he might have had some work done”.  
“Great… So, you have no idea”, I frowned. Mick shrugged.  
Looking back towards the man, he was gone.

I took a sip of my drink, and was once again overwhelmed – this time by the intense taste of the liquid. It was sweet and fruity, but not sickeningly so. There was a minty undertone to it; a crispness that made me feel refreshed.  
“We should dance”, Mick said. “Maybe you’ll catch his eye”.  
Dancing didn’t seem like a bad idea at that point, so I downed my drink, and took Mick’s hand – following him out on the floor.

The DJ began a song I didn’t recognize – one with the bass pumping in a continuous rhythm, which reminded me of a heartbeat. A woman’s voice sang softly in a foreign language, while harps and electric sounding drums mixed in perfect harmony. Soon, I was lifting my arms in the air, and swaying back and forth. Mick leaned in and yelled something in my ear; but I shook my head, not able to hear him. He pointed towards the restrooms, and I nodded.

I danced by myself, not feeling in any way embarrassed by it, as people all around were doing the same. The song twisted and turned around itself, continuously changing, but always keeping the same steady beat of a heart.  
The singing turned in to multiple voices – all soft cheerful female ones – calling out for me. Though I didn’t recognize the words, I knew what they meant. They called for me to dance with them.  
I smiled as a beautiful girl took my hand, and pulled me with her to dance with her group of friends. We laughed together – danced and twirled – and I felt like I could dance forever.  
One of my new friends took my purse; which was getting in my way, and another took my hand twirling me around under her arm.  
The world around me seemed to disapparate into mist, there was only us dancing and having fun. One of the girls handed me a drink; this one even brighter and tastier than the one I’d had before – and I drank it quickly, letting the feel of the alcohol take me over. I was beginning to forget why I’d come; I was having too much fun.

Someone took my hand, and pulled me close.  
“Come have a drink with me”, the man from the bar called into my ear; his voice barely coming through the loud music. He had a charming accent, and a mischievous glint in his eye.  
“I just had one”, I smiled.  
“I’ll get you another”, he said. “A better one”.  
“I’m waiting for someone”, I chuckled; swaying my body to the music.  
“Who?”, he asked.  
I narrowed my eyes, and shrugged.  
“I don’t remember!”, I grinned.

One of my new friends took my free hand, and scowled at the man.  
“I’m going to dance some more”, I said to him. He shook his head.  
“I really think you should come with me”, he said pointedly. He looked at the girl next to me, and frowned at her. She sent him a smug smile, and pulled me with her.  
“Sorry!”, I shrugged; and let her lead me away from the man.

She pulled me towards the podium with the DJ, who grabbed my hand, and helped me up to dance near him. My friends followed me, and we took each other’s hands, and danced around him. When we let go of each other, I spun around laughing. The music kept pumping, and my heart beat along with it. The singing voices multiplied again, and the girls around me mouthed the words. I never wanted it to end.  
“It doesn’t have to!”, one of the girls said. She spoke softly, and I heard her, in spite of the loud music. “Dance with us!”.  
“What?”, I asked. “Did I say…”.  
“Dance!”, she smiled, and put her hands on my waist; spinning us around. She smelled like a fresh meadow and happiness.  
I tried to remember why I was there. It was something about a witch – hunting a witch.  
“Don’t worry about it”, she smiled. “Stay here and be happy with us!”.  
And I was so happy.

\---

Warm breath on the back of my neck. A set of strong arms holding me tight. My body was completely enveloped by the embrace of the man behind me, holding me tight.  
“Lou!”, someone yelled. My friends were gone. I blinked slowly, and breathed in the smell of musk and gunpowder.  
I tried to shrug him off, when I was lifted in the air, and carried away.  
“No!”, I yelled. “Get off me!”. I clawed at the arms holding me.  
“You’re ok, come on”, the voice grunted.  
I was throwing my head backwards, and kicking wildly; trying to get free.  
“Get off me! I don’t want to leave!”.

The arms turned me around, and held me flush against a firm chest.  
“It’s me, Lou”, the man said into my ear. “Come back… Please don’t make me sing that song…”.  
I breathed heavily, and felt a set of lips against mine. Opening my eyes, I was looking at Dean.

“Mick, what the hell?”, Sam behind me yelled. “You were supposed to stay with her”.  
“Nature called… Look, I tried to find her, but she was just gone!”.

I was outside, and Dean was setting me down in the back seat of the Impala.  
“What happened?”, I asked.  
“You disappeared”, he growled. “Mick called us in”.  
I saw the sun had come up, and frowned.  
“What time is it?”.  
“5 am.”, Dean muttered. I chuckled.  
“It was midnight minutes ago”, I said.  
“Yeah, you were gone for hours”, Sam said with a worried expression.  
My jaw dropped.  
“What the hell was in that drink you gave me?”, I asked Mick. Dean raised an angry brow at the brit.  
“It was a Shirley Temple. You said no alcohol”, Mick shrugged.

Dean gestured for me to get my legs in the car, to close the door. When I lifted them, they hurt; and I removed my shoes. My feet were bruised, and my breath hitched.  
“Hotel”, Dean growled. “We’re getting out of here”.  
“Dean, there’s still a job to be done”, Mick exclaimed. Dean was about to throw a punch, when Sam put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Let’s get Lulu back to the hotel; get some sleep”, he said. “We’ll have a better view of the situation after some rest”.  
Without a word, Dean got behind the wheel, and Sam entered next to him. Dean started up the car, and drove us back to the hotel.

My feet were sore, and I leaned against Dean, as we went to our room. Sam entered with us, and looked on as I lifted my legs onto the bed.  
“I _don’t_ trust that son of a bitch”, Dean roared.  
“Thin walls”, I rasped, exhausted.  
“I don’t give a crap”, he growled. “We could have lost you for good; and _don’t_ say you’re fine, ‘cuz you’re not”.  
I sighed.  
“Yeah, I don’t feel so hot, but…”.

Sam turned on the lights, and gestured at my feet. They weren’t just slightly bruised; they were black and blue.  
“That’s not good”, I said. “At least I didn’t have a heart attack”. Trying to lighten the mood didn’t work. Dean looked angry as ever.  
“You weren’t gone for a week, like the other vics”, Sam muttered  
“Please don’t call me that… I’m not one of the victims”. I sighed. “I need some sleep”.  
Sam nodded, and with a final look towards Dean; he left the room.

Dean ran a hand over his face.  
“Every time we bring you on a case with us…”, he began.  
“Don’t, Dean”, I pleaded. “Just help me out of this dress”.  
I got up to stand, and he helped me pull the fabric over my head; discarding the dress on the floor.  
“Not how I pictured undressing you”, he muttered.  
“Sorry”, I smiled softly. “I’m a bit too tired for any more action”.  
“It’s ok”, he replied, and slid his arm behind my back – nimbly unhooking my bra with one hand. “You don’t want to sleep with this thing on, do you?”.  
I chuckled, and shook my head; before crawling under the sheets.

Dean undressed down to his boxers, and got in next to me; pulling me close, and kissing me gently.  
“Sleep, dancing queen”, he whispered. I put my head on his chest, and dozed off.

I dreamt of meadows and mist; and soft voices laughing, as I danced barefoot to the beat of my heart.

\---

I woke at noon to Dean’s phone ringing. He grunted sleepily, and picked up the call.  
“Yeah… Give me ten… Order coffee and bacon, and charge Mick’s room”. He hung up, and kissed the top of my head.  
“Where are you going?”, I croaked.  
“Sam’s room. He found something”, he said; sitting up, and beginning to put his jeans on.  
“Where’s my bag?”, I asked.  
“No, you stay”, he said. “You need to sleep”.  
“I’m awake. And you mentioned coffee and bacon”, I smiled, seating myself, and stretching.

Dean clenched his jaw; and I recognized his expression. _It’s not safe, Lou. I’m just trying to protect you_.  
“Don’t…”, I said.  
“It’s not safe, Lou. I’m just trying to…”.  
I rolled my eyes.  
“Is this the part where you threaten to tie me to the bed?”, I smirked. “We still never tried that”. He frowned at me, and shook his head. “Look, if nothing else, you need me as a witness, right?”.

Sam had ordered food enough for an army; which showed up at his room just after we entered. The sheer amount of bacon, eggs and hash browns; were enough to let me know, he was as pissed at Mick as Dean was – as the B-Moles were the ones who would have to pay for it.  
I was famished, and threw myself on Sam’s bed, to begin stuffing my face. Mick knocked on the door, before opening it without invitation, and stepping inside.

“You’re looking well, Lulu”, he smiled. “Felling all right?”.  
“I’m fine”, I said, mouth full.  
“No thanks to you”, Sam said.  
Mick nodded.  
“You’re right”, he said. “I shouldn’t have left Lulu alone. I understand how this is a breach of trust, but…”.  
“This could have happened whether Mick was there or not”, I sighed. “Other than get me inside the club, he wouldn’t have been much help anyway. He hardly knows his way around a gun, or any other kind of weapon”.  
“I brought a gun…”, Mick said.  
“It’s not about what you bring. It’s how you use it”, Dean smirked.

“Look, I’m trying here", Mick exclaimed. “My superiors were perfectly happy sending in Ketch to take out this witch; but I insisted they let you do it… to prove yourselves".  
“We don’t need to prove ourselves to anyone”, Dean said. “You need to prove yourselves to _us_ … You’re the ones with the crooked ethics here”.  
“You let a 900-yearold witch – who was draining people of their years – walk away!”, Mick said. “I admit we’ve jumped the gun on some… supernatural creatures…”. It was clear he was trying to avoid the word _monster_. “But how many people have Patrick killed since you let him go?”.

“How are you so sure it’s Patrick?”, I asked. Mick looked at me confusedly. “These marks on my feet didn’t come from playing poker”. I tried wiggling my toes, but winced from pain.  
“So, he changed his M.O.”, Mick shrugged.  
“Or it’s not him”, Sam said; dropping his tablet on the bed. I picked it up, and looked at the file he’d found online. “Sìobhragan; also known as _meadow elves_ ”.  
I read aloud from the file.  
“ _Sìobhragan (a.k.a. ylfe or meadow elves) are creatures of the underworld; related to fairies. Known to lure young men and women in, by their otherworldly music and singing; they will make their victims dance with them – wearing them out, and aging them beyond their years. The victims will feel as if they have been dancing only for a short time; when in reality, the time in the place the elves take them to – a parallel plane – works in such a way, that years seem like minutes…”._

“Elves…?”, Dean muttered. “Lulu had a dance-party with… Santa’s little helpers?”.  
I shook my head.  
“No, I’ve read about these things before… They’re part of both Germanic, Scandinavian and Irish folklore”.  
Mick smiled.  
“See; Irish… It’s Patrick”.  
“Relax, lord Ulster”, I muttered.  
“History buff!”, Mick grinned.  
“She reads a lot”, Sam grunted. “And Mick is a witch; not and elf”.

Dean took the tablet from me.  
“Dancing… aging… sexual encounters, wow; these chicks get around… Elven food, which will make the victim forget time and place…”.  
“The drink”, I gasped. “One of the girls I danced with, gave me a drink”.  
“You don’t take drinks from strangers, Lulu! You know better…”, Sam said.  
“Sorry, dad! I was already kind of out of it”. I shoved another slice of bacon into my mouth.

Mick sat down in a recliner, and crossed his legs.  
“Right. So, say this _isn’t_ Patrick, but in fact… elves”, he said. “How do we stop them from killing any more people?”.  
“Well, if they’re related to fairies, iron comes to mind”, Sam said.  
“Which is what we packed, for a witch-hunt”, Dean smiled. He nabbed a piece of bacon from my plate.  
“Yeah, but we don’t know how many elves are in that club”, I muttered. “I didn’t exactly count them”.  
He handed me the tablet again, and pointed at something on the screen.  
“No, but there’s this”, he said. “The elf-king. Father of the meadow elves, and their ruler; apparently. Without him, they’ll probably disappear”.  
“So, we kill _him_ …?”, I wondered.  
“Sounds like the way to go”, Sam said.

Returning to my food – and slapping Dean’s hands away every time he went for my plate – I was finally feeling my energy return. I wasn’t hung over, but I _was_ worn out.  
“Get your own friggin’ plate”, I sneered at Dean, as he grabbed another piece of bacon from me.  
“You ate it all”, he muttered. I looked at the bowls and plates Sam had ordered, and realized he was right. “How long was she gone before you called us?”, Dean asked Mick.  
“About two hours”, he said.  
“And we looked for another three”, Sam added. “That’s a long time with the elves…”. He took the tablet back, and continued reading.  
“So, I haven’t eaten for years…”, I said, swallowing the last bite of eggs on my plate.

“Do you dye your hair?”, Mick asked suddenly. I looked at him confusedly.  
“Just a toner, once in a while…”, I said. “Why?”.  
“It’s growing out…”, he muttered.  
I gingerly got on my feet, and made my way to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I saw that my hair was greying at the roots; and I had faint lines at the corners of my eyes. Dean came to stand next to me.  
“We look the same age”, he said.  
“I’m old!”, I croaked.  
“Hey!”, he frowned.  
I put my hands on my bottom, and squeezed it.  
“Phew”, I sighed. “Still as firm as before”. Dean looked down, and nodded with a slight smirk. I pulled at the fabric of my top, and looked down; once again sighing in relief. “And I won’t be needing a breast lift either”.  
I ran my fingers down my face, and saw creases around my lips.

I left the bathroom, and looked at the others with hard eyes.  
“We need to gank this thing”, I said. “Look at me!”.  
Dean stroked my back.  
“You look great for your age”, he smiled comfortingly.  
“But this isn’t my age!”, I growled. I looked at Sam. “Does it say anything about getting your years back?”.  
Sam shrugged defeatedly.  
“Sorry, no”. I groaned in frustration.

The hotel phone rang, and Dean picked up the call.  
“Hello?... Who?...”. His eyes lit up. “Tell him to wait. We’ll be right there”. He hung up. “We have a guest”.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

The four of us went to the hotel bar. My feet were feeling better, so I could walk without leaning against Dean. By a table in the furthest corner sat a man I recognized as the one who had offered me a drink at the club. Sam and Dean both tensed up when they saw him.  
“Hello, fellas”, the man smiled. “I hear you’ve been looking for me”.  
“Patrick…”, Sam muttered.  
Mick’s jaw dropped.  
“That’s Patrick?”, he breathed. “Well, bloody kill him!”.  
Dean held up a hand.  
“Whoa… let’s hear him out”, he said.

Patrick got up and pulled out a chair; gesturing for me to sit.  
“Have a seat, Lulu. Your feet must be killing you”, he smiled. The other three sat down as well. Patrick returned to his chair, and looked empathetically at me. “Let me start off by saying, I _didn’t_ take your years”.  
“Elves did”, I said quietly. He nodded; before looking towards Mick.  
“Now, _you_ buggers have been on my tail for months; for no good reason”, he sighed. “Bringing in the Winchesters as well?... Not very friendly. Lay off”.

“You haven’t been playing people for years, have you?”, Dean grunted. Patrick waved at the waiter, to have him bring a round for the table.  
“Only the ones who specifically ask”, he smiled. “Can’t take away free will, lads. And I’m always up front with the rules and consequences”.  
“It’s wrong”, Mick said.  
“Why? Because it’s magic?”, Patrick asked. “You use magic in your work… Killing people like me for no good reason”.  
“You’re one of the bad…”, Mick began.

“He’s not”, I interrupted him. Patrick met my eyes. “I remember. You tried to get me away from those dancing girls… the elves”.  
“I did”, he smiled. “But you were very adamant in continuing on with your _dance macabre_ , even though you _were_ supposed to go with me… get me vulnerable… I _do_ appreciate the outfit you wore to reel me in, though”, he winked at me.  
“Blame the English”, I sighed.  
“Oh, I always do”, he grinned. Mick looked like he’d eaten a box of nails.

The waiter arrived at the table with a tray of beers. I took a swig of mine; realizing I hadn’t only been hungry, but also parched.  
“How long were you gone?”, Patrick said.  
“About 5 hours”, Sam muttered.  
“Years, then. It’s good you didn’t have another of their drinks – they’d have really had you then”, the witch frowned. “You _do_ look a bit older, I admit”.  
“That something you might be able to help with?”, Dean asked. Patrick looked intently at him.  
“Might be… If there’s something in it for me”.  
Mick guffawed, and almost choked on his beer.  
“You’re bargaining with the witch, now?”

Dean clenched his jaw.  
“Patrick, would you excuse us for a moment?”, he said. “We need to have a short conversation with Mick, here”.  
Patrick shrugged.  
“Need to see a man about a horse anyway”. He smiled at me, and walked towards the restrooms.

Mick pulled out his phone.  
“We’re calling in Ketch. If you won’t take that thing down, _he_ will”, he exclaimed.  
Dean snatched Mick’s phone from his hands.  
“That _thing_ is a person”, he said. “As far as any of us know, he’s never killed benevolently… And he has a way to give Lulu back her years”.  
“Apparently, he even tried to help her last night”, Sam added. I nodded.  
Mick shook his head.  
“So now we’re bending over and taking it from him?”, he exclaimed.

“You really want him dead, don’t you…? Why?”, I asked.  
“Because his boss’ time is running out, and I won’t help her”, Patrick said; having returned to the table quietly. He sat down, and took a swig of his beer, before placing a toothpick between his lips, and moving it around with his tongue.  
“What’s he talking about, Mick?”, I growled. “Is this some kind of revenge mission you’re using us for?”.  
“No!”, Mick croaked. “I have no idea what he’s on about”.  
Patrick smirked.  
“They didn’t tell you either, Mickey? That has to sting…”. Mick looked confused; and Patrick rolled his eyes. “Your beloved Doctor Hess is battling cancer; you didn’t know that?”.  
Mick shook his head.  
“I wasn’t given that information”, he muttered; a strange mix of confusion, worry and relief on his face.  
Dean scoffed though a chuckle.  
“I guess they don’t tell you everything”, he jeered.

Patrick leaned back in his chair.  
“I had a visit from one of you lot about six months ago”, he explained. “Asking for 10 years; so she’d be able to go through treatments, before it takes her out”.  
“And you wouldn’t give them”, Sam said matter-of-factly.  
“That dried up hag deserves everything coming to her”, Patrick replied. “I have no reason to help her”. He looked towards Mick. “You really didn’t know?”. Mick shook his head.  
I raised a brow at the brit.  
“Mick here is still realizing, that the world isn’t as black and white as he thought”.  
Mick got on his feet.  
“I have a few calls to make; if you’d just hand me back my phone”, he muttered. Dean paused for a moment. “Not to Ketch, you have nothing to worry about”. Dean gave him his phone, and he left the bar quietly.

Patrick sighed.  
“Now that we’ve rid ourselves of the redcoats; maybe we can get back to business”, he smiled. He took my hand, and looked at me intently. “I’d be happy to help you get your years back, love. But I _will_ need something in return”.  
“And what’s that?”, Dean asked; taking a hold of my wrist, and pulling my hand out of Patrick’s. The witch raised a brow at him.  
“Yours then?”, he smirked. “Too bad…”. Dean grunted nonsensically. “Fine. I want the elf-king dead”.  
“We’re not opposed to that”, Sam said. “But why do _you_ want him dead?”.  
“He’s where I got my powers”, Patrick said. “Sort of”.  
“What do you mean?”, I asked.  
Patrick narrowed his eyes, and shrugged.  
“I might have convinced his wife to teach me his spells for taking and giving years…”, he said. “In bed…”.  
I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So, the king is pissed”, Dean said.  
“Has been for 900 years”, Patrick said. “I’ve stayed away from him for as long as possible – even went across the pond to keep my distance – but a group of British Men of Letters made my whereabouts known to him, when I didn’t want to help the good doctor”.  
“They’re really attacking you from all sides”, Dean said. “Us _and_ the king”.  
Patrick nodded.  
“The brits I can handle. The elf king on the other hand…”. He shook his head. “My magic won’t put a dent in him; and I’m not much of a brawler, I admit. At least not when it comes to ancient elf-kings… It’s only my Irish luck that the bugger doesn’t know what I look like. Yet”.

“Why didn’t his daughters tell him where you were, when they saw you trying to take me away from them?”, I asked. “They seemed to recognize you”.  
“Bunch of airheads… why do you think I went for their ma’?”, Patrick grinned. “All they know is dancing and screwing poor peasant boys who don’t know better”.

“Do you know where we can find him? And better yet; kill him?”, I asked.  
“I’m afraid you’re out of your league there, darlin’”, the witch smiled. “You’ve been elfshot”.  
“I’ve… what?”, I frowned.  
“They’ve already had their hands on you”, Patrick explained. “You won’t be able to hurt him. You’re his…”.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Dean grunted.  
“If she gets near the king, she’ll do whatever she can to protect him. It’s part of the magic in the music. And where the king goes, the music always follows… As soon as you hear it again, you’ll be a lost cause”.  
I furrowed my brow, and thought about the night before.  
“When I danced with those girls – the music and the singing was so intense – I didn’t want to leave”, I said.  
“You fought like hell to stay in that club”, Dean agreed. “If you’d had your gun on you, I’m not sure we’d all be still be sitting here”.

I groaned in frustration.  
“So I can’t help with taking the king down?”, I whined. “Man…!”.  
Patrick smiled almost apologetically.  
“I’d be happy to keep you company, while the boys go take care of it”, he offered. “Dinner, drinks…”.  
“She’s fine, thanks”, Dean grunted. “Just give her back her years”.  
Patrick took another swig of his beer.  
“ _After_ the king is dead”.  
Sam and Dean looked at each other, and had a silent conversation.  
“Deal”, Dean said. “Now, how do we do it?”.

Patrick raised his brows at him.  
“Well, that club has a dress code, so I suggest you start by going shopping”.

\---

“I look like a douche-bag!”, Dean yelled from the bathroom.  
“Just come out here. Let me have a look”, I called back.  
“No!”, he retorted.  
“Dean, don’t make me come in there!”.

The door opened, and a sour faced Dean stepped into the room; wearing a leather bomber jacket with a V-neck t-shirt under it, and some tight-fitting jeans. I tried keeping a straight face.  
“You look…”.  
“I look like _Pete_ ”, Dean growled. I shrugged in agreement.  
“At least you’re not wearing a hat”, I smiled. He groaned. “When do you have to meet up with Sam?”.  
“An hour”, he muttered.

I raised a brow at him, and bit my lip teasingly. Dean’s eyes lit up, and he couldn’t get the jacket off fast enough. He grabbed my waist and practically threw me on the bed.  
“Careful, Dean! I’m an older woman…”, I laughed. He crawled up my body, wiggling his brows.  
“That’s hot”, he grinned; and pressed his lips to mine. I tugged at his lower lip with my teeth, and he let out a choked growl – moving my legs so he could get between them.

I pushed at Deans chest to get on top off him; continuously kissing at suckling at his lips and tongue.  
“I love you, old lady”, he breathed.  
“I love you, old man”, I smiled, and sat up; grinding my core against Deans growing bulge.

I was just about to pull my tank-top off, when there was a knock at the door. I cursed below my breath, and crawled off Dean.  
“Come in, Mick”, I called out.  
Dean sat up on the edge of the bed, and put the jacket in his lap. Mick entered the room, looking pale.  
“Patrick was telling the truth”, he said. “I’m sorry for dragging you in to this. I honestly am”.  
“You really didn’t know?”, I asked quietly. He shook his head; and I felt a pang of sympathy for the man. “I’m sorry, Mick”, I muttered.  
He met my eyes, and gave me a sad smile.  
“I hope you understand this isn’t just a breach of trust for you; but for me as well”.  
Dean nodded.  
“We get it…”, he said. “And I hope _you_ understand, that we’re not going to kill Patrick”.  
“I do…”, Mick replied. “I already reported in that Patrick’s not here. Lying to the higher ups is against the code – but I believe it’s the right move in this case”.

“So, what are you going to do now?”, I asked.  
Mick raised his hands in defeat.  
“Going back to HQ”, he said. “This isn’t a Men of Letters mission anymore… I checked out of my room; but left this one and Sam’s on my card. You have 24 hours, before you’ve got to check out”.  
“We can make that work”, Dean said. He furrowed his brows at Mick. “Look, man… As far as this case goes, you’re straight with us… for whatever that’s worth. You didn’t know”.  
“That _does_ mean something”, Mick said. “Thanks”.  
He left the room, and closed the door behind him.

“That was sad”, I said. “I can’t help but feel bad for him”.  
“I know what you mean”, Dean said. “Look, I know we just cocked the hammer on something here; but I should get ready”.   
I nodded, sat down on the bed; and shed my socks to check on my feet.  
“Huh… Healing fast”, I smiled.   
“Guess Cass’ grace is still working it’s magic on you”, Dean said.   
“Still no word from him?”, I asked. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dean… I’m sure he’s ok”.  
“I hope he is. Then I won’t have to hold back when I kick his ass, for going dark on us”, Dean grunted; and slid his iron knife into his boot.

“So, what’s your plan? Just go in to the club, and start stabbing people who look like elf-kings in the heart with iron knives?”.  
“Something like that… Did anyone stand out last night?”, he asked.  
I chewed my lips, and thought about it.  
“The music is what reels the victims in, right? And where the king goes, the music follows…”. I scoffed at my own ignorance. “Dean, the DJ!”.  
“Huh… makes sense”, he said. “See, you’re helping”.

I wiggled my toes, this time without feeling any real pain shooting through them.  
“I still think I should go with you”, I muttered.  
“You heard Patrick”, Dean said. “You hear that music again – we don’t know what you’ll do…”.  
“So this isn’t you just _trying to protect me_ ”, I imitated his growling.  
“I _don’t_ sound like that!”, he growled. “And, no… The opposite. I’m trying to protect me and Sam from _you_ … We don’t want you going full Bateman on us; especially not with loaded weapons on you”.  
I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“That’s a load of crap”, I declared. “You don’t think I’ll be able to fight this thing…”.  
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.  
“You haven’t taken on anything like this before”, he said.  
“Neither have you…”, I muttered. He shrugged.  
“They’re related to fairies… We’ve done those”. His voice was hard – determined.  
“Dean, I’m…”, I began.

He sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“Look, here’s the deal”, he said. “If you come with us, and hear that music again… You might lose it, and attack us… And I’d have to fight back”.  
My lips parted, and I drew in a short breath. I hadn’t considered that fact.  
“You’re saying… you might have to hurt me”, I said below my breath.  
He clenched his jaw.  
“I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime”, he croaked. He lifted a hand, and stroked his finger over the tiny white spot on my chest – the scar from where Cass had drawn some of his grace from me, to get strong enough to fight Dean when he’d been a demon. I remembered the beating Dean had given me then; how it had made him push me away, because he couldn’t deal with what he had done to me. “I can’t hurt you like that again”, he said.  
“That wasn’t you… We’ve talked about this”, I tried.  
“Please, Lou… Don’t put me in that situation”, he breathed. “I’m begging you”.

“Is that why you won’t train with me anymore?”, I whispered. He looked at me hesitantly. “I should have figured it out… You’re avoiding everything that has to do with hand to hand with me… You won’t even play rough in bed”. My cheeks flushed red. It was difficult for me to voice my needs like this – even to Dean.  
He cleared his throat.  
“You’re… not happy with what we do anymore?”. He sounded almost worried. I shook my head fervently.  
“No…! I mean, yes, of course”. I struggled to find the right words. “I love what we do… what you do to me”. I swallowed hard, and looked down. “But you’re so careful with me. When we make love, it’s… awesome. But sometimes, I miss a bit of rough and tumble… A slap and a tickle…”.  
Dean chuckled embarrassedly, and shrugged.  
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want that anymore”.  
“I do”, I admitted. “And from the expression on your face, I’m guessing you do as well”.  
Dean took my had, and stroked my knuckles.  
“Yeah… I just don’t want you to feel unsafe around me. And I don’t want to lose control with you”.  
“I trust you”, I whispered.

Dean’s phone vibrated with a message from Sam.  
“Awesome timing”, he muttered. “Sam’s ready to go already”.  
I sighed deeply.  
“Ok… I’ll take a bubble bath; and wait for you to come back”.  
Dean raised a brow at me.  
“Alone?”. I rolled my eyes.  
“No, I’ll call Patrick!”, I jeered.  
“Not funny”, Dean muttered. “I’ve had enough of British guys trying to get in your pants”.  
“Don’t tell Patrick you called him British; he might strip you of a few hundred years”, I grinned. I straddled his lap, and wrapped my arms around him. “I’ll be all clean when you get back; and now that Mick’s left…”.  
“We won’t be interrupted”, Dean realized. “And I could get you all dirty again”. His lips drew back in a mischievous grin.  
We shared a deep kiss – full of promises – before Dean got back to getting ready.

\---

Once the guys had left, I let myself enjoy the pleasures of the hotel. Adding to my glee, was the fact that the B-Moles were paying.  
Turning on a pay-per-view movie I had no intention of watching; I ordered a bottle of the most expensive champagne, peanuts and five different kinds of pie; for when Dean got back.

Pulling down the blinds, I put in my headphones, and cranked up my music; dancing around the room in my underwear. The bed looked sad and lonely; so I decided it needed a good jumping on. In spite of having aged at least 10 years in one day, I felt like a kid, as I jumped up and down; trying to see if I could reach the ceiling.  
In my utter state of joy, I decided to snap a few pictures of myself as I jumped; and sent them to Dean.  
\- _Jumping on the bed in my underwear. Wish you were here. xxx_

After a few hours, I still hadn’t gotten a reply, but figured the guys were fine. They always were.  
I decided to take the bubble bath I’d promised myself. I put in enough soap for the foam to rise almost two feet above the edge of the tub; shed my bra and panties, and lowered myself into the bath – still with music in my ears. I took a sip of the bottle of bubblies I’d brought with me into the bathroom, and winced at the dryness of the champagne.  
Once James Hetfield began singing, I growled along; with my eyes closed.  
 _“Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da. Yeah, yeah! Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o. There's whiskey in the jar-oh!”_.

I opened my eyes after the last _Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da_ ; and shrieked, when I saw I had company. Patrick was grinning at me from the doorway – a toothpick dangling from his lips. I yanked out the headphones.  
“What the hell are you doing here?”, I yelped; covering my body with my arms.  
“Don’t worry, darlin’”, he laughed. “There’s more bubbles in that thing than foam in the sea. I can’t see a thing”.  
“Turn around, and get out!”, I growled. The witch shrugged, and turned around – walking away from the door. I grabbed a robe, quickly got out of the tub; and put it on.

Entering the room again, I went for my bag.   
“Looking for this?”, Patrick asked, and held up my iron knife; having wrapped it in a cloth napkin.  
“I’ll say it again”, I snarled. “What are you doing here?”.  
“Have you heard from your lover?”, he asked.  
“No… why?”.  
“Bollocks”, Patrick sighed. “I think they got to them”.  
My breath hitched.  
“What do you mean?”, I rasped.

He raised a brow at me, and moved the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth.  
“I had a visit from a lovely lady I know”, he said. “She said there was trouble at the club”.  
“Was this lovely lady Mrs. Elf-king?”, I asked. He nodded solemnly. “Crap…”.  
“Shite indeed”, Patrick said. “So now, I lost my way of getting rid of the king, and you lost your lovely boys”.  
I took a deep breath, and clenched my jaw.  
“No”, I said.  
“No?”, Patrick asked.  
“Nuh uh”, I said. “Not letting them do that”.

I grabbed my bag, and went back into the bathroom.  
“What are you doing, love?”, Patrick asked through the door, after I’d closed it.  
“I’m going back to the club to get Dean and Sam”, I declared. I quickly put on some underwear, jeans and a tank-top; topping it off with a flannel shirt.   
“You can’t”, Patrick called out. I opened the door, and stared him square in the face.  
“Watch me”, I snarled.  
“You’re elfshot”, he chuckled. “One note of that music, and you’ll be a goner”.  
I grabbed my phone and the headphones, and smirked at him.  
“I’ll have to bring my own playlist to the party, I guess”.

Patrick shook his head.  
“Look, if you get lost in there, I’m not going to be able to get you out; let alone give you your years back”.  
I frowned for a moment.  
“You’re right… and you’ll be no worse of”, I said. “But if I _do_ come back – and if I kill the king – you’ll give them back, right?”.  
“I will. That was the deal”, Patrick nodded. “But…”.  
“And Sam and Dean? You’ll give back their years as well?”, I asked. “They’ve been in there for hours; they probably lost some years too”.  
Patrick narrowed his eyes, and took out his toothpick; pointing it at me.  
“If you make it out there with them – and if you kill that old bastard – you’ll get all those years back. That’s a promise”.  
“Just like that?”, I frowned.  
“Well, you’re walking in to certain death, so it won’t be _just like that_ ”, he smirked. “But I’d say you will have earnt them”.

I held out my hand for him to shake. He took it, and smiled.  
“Deal”, I said.  
“Deal”, he agreed. He looked at the bottle of champagne on the floor. “Mind if I take advantage of the room-service here?”.  
“Go ahead”, I smirked. “It’s on the British Men of Letters”.  
Patrick grinned widely.

\---

Mick had left the Mustang in the parking lot of the hotel; and the keys on the front tire. I sent him a warm thought, and got behind the wheel; before making my way to the club.  
The valet took the keys from me, as I exited the car with my bag in hand. He looked at my outfit in confusion – obviously remembering my green dress from the night before.  
“I thought it was casual Friday”, I muttered; and walked towards the entrance of the club.

The doorman halted me.  
“Miss, you’ll have to get in line”.  
Putting my hand into my bag, I pulled out my sawn-off shotgun, and cocked it.  
“The king is expecting me”, I snarled. He stepped back immediately; and the people in like began yelling and screaming. “Oh relax! This place is so last month anyway”.  
I put my headphones in, and cranked up the music. As soon as AC/DC began playing _Back in Black_ , I kicked the door open, and stepped inside.

The club was alive with people dancing and drinking. I scanned the room for Sam and Dean; but couldn’t find them from the sheer amount of people in the place. Growling to myself, I shot my gun at the ceiling; and suddenly got almost everyone’s attention.  
“Get out, unless you’re ready to get old really fast, or die!”, I yelled at the top of my lungs – my own music so loud I could hardly hear my own voice.  
People raced for the exit; and after the last girl hobbled her way out on a broken heel, I closed the doors, and grabbed a chair to block them from being opened from the outside.

I spun around and scanned the room again. In the middle of the floor, I saw two figures I recognized. Sam and Dean both had happy expressions, and were each holding hands with a pair of girls who were twirling them around.  
One of the girls walked towards me, and reached out her hand.  
“Dance!”, I saw her lips mouth. I shook my head, and shot at her.  
“Iron buckshots!”, I yelled. Another girl drew her lips back in a sneer, making her face contort from beautiful to terrifying. I swung the gun at her; hitting her over the head with the handle.

Quickly reloading, I made my way to the floor; and shot at the girl who was holding Dean’s hand.  
“Mine, bitch!”, I growled. Dean blinked, and laughed at the sight; before twirling around and dancing across the floor towards another girl, who was waving at him. I grabbed his arm. “Dean!”. He looked at me through hooded lids, and shook his head.  
Suddenly, I was lifted into the air from behind; and I was spun around to face Sam.  
“Dance!”, his lips mouthed at me. He tried to pull me with him, but I pushed him away, and shot at the girl behind him.

I looked at the two men who were now facing me, and looking confused. They both had pink cheeks, and looked like they had no plans to stop dancing. Both men’s hair was greying; and they had prominent wrinkles on their faces.  
“You two are being idiots!”, I yelled; and began reloading my gun. “If you’re not going to help, then get down!”. Dean answered me by doing the Sprinkler move, while Sam decided to go for the Running Man.  
I roller my eyes, and shot at another girl; trying to make my way to the podium.

The DJ was bouncing up and down, and reached out for me to join him up there. I declined his offer, and in stead shot at his head. His mask cracked down the middle, and revealed the face of an ageless man with a large beard.  
“Look at that! You _are_ Santa!”, I yelled.  
Before I could reload, someone kicked at my leg; and I fell to the floor. I looked up at my attacker, and saw Deans rageful face.  
“Dance!”, his lips mouthed. I shook my head.  
“Sorry, baby”, I yelled. “We can dance when you’re normal again!”. I kicked at his chest, and he stumbled backwards, as I got back on my legs.

Sam threw himself at me, and I narrowly escaped his attack, by twirling around. Dean was on me again, and grabbed my neck, while Sam pulled out his knife.  
“This isn’t you”, I croaked. “Please, Dean…”. He began lifting me into the air, and my feet left the floor. “Please don’t make me do this”, I heaved. I noticed Sam moving in on us with his knife in the air, and just as he was about to thrust his knife at me, I swung my legs forward – straddling Dean’s chest – and struck both my fists down on either side of his neck; making his shoulders give. He let go of my neck, and fell backwards – with me seated on his chest.   
Sam tumbled to the floor; tripping over his brother’s legs. He dropped his knife, which slid across the floor; towards the elven girls, who all recoiled from the iron.  
I got off Dean – who was heaving for breath, after having landed on his back with my full body-weight on his chest – and pulled my iron knife from my boot.

With it in hand, I ran towards the podium again. The elf-king snarled at me, and lifted his hands to pull out my headphones – giving me momentum and access to stab him in the chest with the iron knife.  
He froze in place, and his skin turned grey – before he exploded into dust on the floor. Turning towards the turntable, I stabbed the knife down into it; making it sputter and spark.

I took out my headphones, and looked down at the dancefloor. Sam and Dean looked at each other and me in confusion. Around us, all the beautiful girls where screaming and disappearing into mist. Then there was only silence.  
“What the…?”, Dean rasped, and got on his feet. “Ow!”. He looked down.  
“How are your feet?”, I smirked. Sam limped over to sit on the edge of the podium.  
“What happened?”, he asked.  
I raised a brow at both men.  
“You let a bunch of pretty girls take you dancing”, I chided. They both looked embarrassed.

Sirens began blaring outside, and there was a banging on the door. I grabbed the cracked mask from the dust on the floor.  
“The police are here?”, Dean asked with wide eyes.  
“I might have cocked a gun at the doorman”, I admitted. “Where’s the car?”.  
“Out back”, Sam said.  
“Let’s go!”, I declared, sprang for my bag by the door; and ran for the back exit.  
Sam and Dean were both limping.  
“Hurry up!”, I growled.  
“My feet hurt!”, Dean complained.  
“Just, move your ass”, I snarled; opening the door for them.

The Impala was parked down the alley. When we finally got to it, Dean muttered something below his breath.  
“What?”, I hissed.  
“I can’t drive… My feet hurt too much”, he said. “Sam?”. His brother shook his head.  
I smirked, and held out my hand. Dean dropped his keys into it, and got in on the passenger side, while Sam got in the back. I dropped my bag in the trunk; and got behind the wheel – starting up the engine, and racing out of the alley; in the opposite direction than the sirens.

Turning around a corner, the Impala drifted for a moment; and Dean’s eyes widened.  
“Careful! I just waxed her”, he cried out.  
“Shut up, Methuselah”, I growled. Dean turned the rearview mirror to look at himself.  
“Oh, come on!”, he roared. I turned the mirror back into position.  
I looked at Sam over my shoulder.  
“I’m guessing you took drinks from strangers”, I said, before looking back at the road.  
“We didn’t mean to…”.  
“Idjits”, I growled. “We’re going to have a serious conversation, when we get back!”.

I managed to avoid any cop-cars, and kept just below the speed limit to not attract attention, all the way back to the hotel.

\---

“What were you two knuckleheads thinking?”, I roared, as I slammed the door to Dean’s and my room behind us. “Were you just going to go in there on nothing but a prayer? You know better!”.

Sam and Dean both sat down on the two recliners in the room, looking very glum.  
“We did prepare…”, Dean tried.  
“An iron knife? You thought that would be enough for a thing like this?”, I growled. “You absolute morons!”.  
“We’re fine”, Sam said quietly.  
“Yeah, after I saved your sorry asses!”, I hissed.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Patrick came out; wearing a bathrobe, and fisting a glass of whiskey.  
“Well, look at that! You did it”, he smiled. “And you even brought back Laurel and Hardy. Good for you”.  
“Yeah, good for me”, I muttered angrily. “Now, give us back our years”.  
“Just a moment… the king?”, the witch asked. I grabbed the mask from my bag, and threw it on the bed.  
“We good?”, I grunted.  
“Absolutely”, Patrick grinned.

“Why is he here?”, Dean asked.  
“Looks to me like he was taking a bath”, Sam chuckled quietly. I gave him a death-stare.  
“He was the one who told me you guys messed up”, I said. “Say thank you”.  
“Thank you, Patrick”, Sam and Dean both muttered, looking at the floor.  
“You lads are very welcome”, Patrick said. “Now sit still”.

The witch raised his hand into the air, and spoke some words in a language I didn’t understand. It sounded strangely like the language from the elf-song.  
I felt my body relax, and watched as the skin on my hands tightened. I walked into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. The crow’s feet around my eyes, and the grey roots were gone. Once back in the room, I saw that Dean and Sam also both looked they’d returned to their own actual ages.

I turned around, and smiled at Patrick.  
“Thank you”, I said.   
“Anytime, darlin’”, he smirked. He handed me a note. “My number… Just in case you need it”, he winked.  
I kissed his cheek; making Dean mutter below his breath behind me.

“We should probably get out of Chicago”, Sam said. “Before police put out an APB on a crazy woman with a shotgun”.  
“Careful, sunshine. I’m still mad at you two”, I growled.  
“Yes, ma’am”, Sam muttered. “But still…”.  
“You don’t mind if I keep the room for tonight?”, Patrick asked.  
“Paid for until tomorrow”, I said. “Go nuts!”.

\---

Being the only one with functioning feet, I was behind the wheel again, when we left the city. It was a quiet drive. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut through with a knife.  
I caught Sam’s gaze in the mirror a few times. He was looking ashamed, and like he didn’t know what to say. Dean on the other hand, had his hard eyes facing the road.  
I decided it wasn’t my responsibility to start any conversations; especially seeing as I still hadn’t received an apology from either of the brothers.   
The lack of talking, and the gloomy weather made it an especially long drive; and we only stopped once, for a quick bite to eat – also in silence.

Once in the bunker, Dean quickly got out of the car, to close the garage doors behind us. I parked the Impala, and gave him the keys – our eyes still not meeting. His feet seemed better; as he was hardly limping when he grabbed both our bags from the trunk, and left the room.

Sam walked over to me; puppy-dog expression fully turned on.  
“Lulu, I’m sorry”, he said. “We were idiots… I was an idiot. I don’t know what happened”.  
“You did what you told me not to”, I said. “You took a drink from a stranger”.  
He nodded.  
“It happened so fast. We were trying not to let our cover be blown, and all of a sudden, some girl hands me a bright drink; and it smelled so good, I just… I’m sorry”.  
I gave him a slight smile.  
“If you want to apologize, you can start by saying _sorry_ for the embarrassing _Running Man_ you tried to pull off”.  
His cheeks flushed.  
“I didn’t…”, he gasped.  
“Oh, you did”, I smirked. “Overbite and everything”. Sam groaned.  
“Once you forgive me, can we _never_ talk about that again?”.  
I shrugged.  
“I forgive you… but I’m most definitely talking about it again…”, I declared. “Consider it recompence for pulling a knife on me”.  
He swallowed hard, and nodded.

Sam scuttered off to his room, and I walked towards 11; deciding it was time to face Dean. He was taking apart his gun, and glanced out of the corner of his eye at me as I entered. I closed the door behind me, sat down on the edge of the bed; and looked at him with anticipatory eyes.  
“What?”, he grunted.  
“Ok, I’ll help you”, I sighed. “We could start off with an apology”.  
He put down his gun, and leaned against the desk; his arms crossed.  
“I forgive you”, he said.  
“Excuse me?”, I scoffed. “What do I have to be sorry about?”.  
Deans eyes were hard.  
“I begged you to stay at the hotel; and you still came running in – guns blazing – with nothing but a half-assed plan”, he growled. “You could have been killed”.  
“You were in trouble! I saved you…”, I retorted. “And you’re one to talk about half-assed plans…You didn’t even have one!”.  
“I could have killed you!”, he snapped; making me jump.

When Dean saw my startled expression, his own softened; and he let his arms hang down – trying to look calmer.  
“I told you, I don’t want to hurt you anymore… But I did”, he said.  
“I stopped you”, I replied. “And if I hadn’t shown up, you would be dead by now”.  
“I know”, he sighed. “And that was… You kicked ass… My ass”.  
I smirked slightly.  
“Yeah, I did”. I furrowed my brows at him. “Dean, I had to go in there. I couldn’t let them take you. If you’re gonna be angry with me, about trying to protect the people I love…”.  
“I’m not”, he sighed. “I’m… angry because you were in danger, because of me… that I put my hands on you like that. Again”.  
“Well, you need to get over it”, I shrugged. “It wasn’t you. And that’s not the part _I’m_ pissed about”.

“Then what?”, Dean muttered.  
“I’m pissed that you got me worried”, I growled. “You could have gotten seriously hurt, or died”.  
I looked out the corner of my eye at Dean; who was smiling softly.  
“Now you get it”, he said.  
“What do you mean?”, I asked.  
“Every time you go out there on some hunt, I don’t sleep right until I know you’re back”, he said. “I worry you’ll get hurt… die… I don’t want to lose you, Lou”.  
I swallowed hard.  
“Yeah, I guess I get it”.

Dean took a deep breath.  
“You sure you’re not pissed about me dancing with a bunch of pretty girls?”, he muttered.  
“Pfft”, I scoffed. “Like any of those girls have… Ok, I’m a bit pissed about that as well. You let a group of beautiful women get you drunk on elf-booze, and then had a party with them”.  
“That why you were cozying up with the man-witch?”. I glanced over at him, and shrugged.  
“I don’t know…”, I said.  
“You know it was magic… I wouldn’t ever…”, he said.  
“I know…”, I replied. “At least, I _think_ I know”.  
“I love you, Lou", Dean said. “Always will".  
“Even when I’m old and grey?”, I smiled.  
“Already tried that, remember? Even then…”, he said. “So, are we good?”.

I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“You didn’t say sorry”, I said.  
“Seriously?”, he grunted.  
“Absolutely”, I smiled. “In fact, I think you should bend me over and apologize”.  
Dean looked startled at my response, but not as startled as I felt about my own bluntness. I was frustrated and angry, but I also needed his closeness – and for him to show that he was back in control of himself. On top of that, I felt that I needed to be thrown down, and _had._ It had been too long.

“Are you… now?”.

I got on my feet and walked over to him; shucking my t-shirt in the process. Dean licked his lips, and let out a short breath.  
“You’re not gonna hurt me. I trust you… As an apology – from both of us to the other – I want you to do whatever you want to me”, I whispered; surprised by my own words. “Any way you want it”.

Dean’s eyes darkened, and I recognized something in them I hadn’t seen in a while – something that sent shivers down my spine, and blood straight to my core. He hooked a finger into the waistband of my jeans, and tugged me closer to him; my hands landing on his chest – making my breath catches from the sudden movement.

He ghosted his lips over mine, as if he was about to kiss me; and I closed my eyes in anticipation.  
“You have no idea what you just started”, Dean whispered; before moving his lips to my neck, and placing an open mouthed kiss on my pulse-point – sucking at it.

I pushed my hands up his shoulders, and pushed his shirt off them, and down his arms. Dean opened my jeans, and I pushed them down, and stepped out of them. He took off his t-shirt, and I saw his chest slowly rising and falling – giving him the look of someone in complete control of the situation. His green eyes were focused on mine; making me swallow hard to wet my dry mouth.  
“Any way I want it?”, he growled.  
“That’s the way you need it…”, I croaked. Dean raised the corner of his lips into a sly smile, and reached behind me, to snap my bra open. He grabbed it between my breasts, and pulled it off in a swift move.

“Take your panties off”, he ordered. I looked at him surprise from the brusque tone in his voice. He raised a brow at me. “Take them off, or I’ll rip them off”, he growled.   
My lips parted, and I drew in a short breath. Dean winked at me, letting me know he was still there – still my Dean – just playing a game we both wanted to be a part of, and could stop at any moment if it got too far.  
He went behind me, to sit on the edge of the bed. Turning to face him, and hooking my fingers into my panties; I began pulling them down.  
“Slowly”, Dean said. I swallowed, and my breath caught, as I unhurriedly slid my panties down to my ankles, and stepped out of them. He began trailing his eyes over my naked body, calmly assessing what he saw. Leaning forwards, he reached out, and ran his index finger from my collarbone, down between my breasts, over my bellybutton; halting just above my curls. “Chuck?”, he smirked. I shrugged, and gave him a slight smile.  
“It works”, I croaked.   
Dean sighed deeply, and continued his finger’s movement downwards; stopping on my clit – barely grazing it. I moved forwards, wanting him to move it.  
“No…”, he grunted. “Stand still”.

He held his finger there for what seemed like an eternity, before finally flicking it over my nub, once. I gasped from the jolt it sent through my body; and Dean smiled at me menacingly, licking his lips.  
“This right here…”, he said. He began moving his finger in a come-hither motion over my clit, flicking it every time he bent and stretched it. My knees where shaking, and I found it hard to stand.   
“I like this thing”, Dean smirked. “So tiny, but so much fun to play with”.   
He tweezed my nub between his index finger and thumb, and pulled at it a little. His eyes never left the apex of my thighs.

An intense tingling sensation began from my bundle of nerves, spreading outwards, and down into my feet. I whimpered, and almost lost my footing.  
“Dean…”, I breathed, reaching for his wrist. He slapped my hand away.  
“No. I told you to stand still”, he growled. He continued flicking at me, and looked totally content to continue his torture forever.  
My knees felt like jelly.  
“I can’t”, I whimpered.  
“You’re going to have to”, he shrugged.  
“Why?”, I frowned.

Dean’s eyes flew up to meet mine; his pupils dilated.  
“What was that?”, he challenged.  
“Nothing”, I whispered; chills running down my spine in anticipation.  
“No, I heard something… Did you ask me _why_?”, he snarled. I bit my lip, and nodded. He narrowed his eyes at me, and stood up; towering menacingly over me. “Because I said so", he growled.

Dean’s index finger went back to ghosting my clit, and could have sworn the I _felt_ my pupils dilate from the sensation.  
He began stroking my nub ever so gently, pulling me back to the sensation of my feet being on fire. I had to move my legs, as he pressed harder against me.  
“Stand still. I’m not going to tell you again", Dean growled, a hard expression on his face. Looking down, I saw that his jeans were struggling against his erection; letting me know that he was seriously getting off on this game of dominance.  
I could hear my own slick being moved around by his finger over my clit, but he never entered me.

Dean lifted his chin, making him seem even taller than he was, and making me feel tiny in comparison. Once again, he paused his attack in my nub, just holding his finger there.  
“You’re gonna get there, just like this, baby. And you’re not going to move your feet or legs”, he ordered. “Put your arms behind your back, and fold your hands”. I did as I was told. “Don’t even think about letting go, or grabbing a hold of anything".

Dean began stroking my clit again, and within seconds had my legs back to caving.  
“Gonna fall", I whimpered.  
“Don’t move, and don’t let go of your hands", he growled. He leaned in close, and put his mouth to my ear. “I promise I’ll catch you, Lou", he whispered. “I’m here". He brushed his lips against my cheek, before moving back to his former stance, staring me down.

Once again, his finger began moving, going back to flicking over my clit, drawing small squeaks from me every time he did. A pulsating and yet still tingling feeling started boiling over from my nub, sending shocks through my empty warmth.  
Without touching me anywhere but on my clit, Dean was drawing me nearer and near to my undoing, just by his dominance and the flicking of his index finger.  
My chest was heaving; and all my concentration and energy was being spent on staying on my feet, and pushing away my inevitable climax, when I knew I would collapse.

Dean looked deep into my eyes, and smiled.  
“Let go". My orgasm washed over me in violent bursts, and my knees gave in. Dean kept his promise, and caught me, as I fell quivering and whimpering into his arms. “Good girl”, he breathed into my ear. I leaned against his bare chest and shoulder, and looked at him through my lashes.

“You still need to sit down?”, he smirked. I nodded, my body feeling weak. “All right. Knees”.  
He grabbed the pillow from the bed, and threw it on the floor, for me to kneel on – then opened his belt and jean-button; taking of his pants.  
Dean nodded towards his groin. Hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, I pulled them out over his erection, and down to his ankles. He quickly kicked them away. I kept my eyes on the floor.

Dean cupped my chin, and made me look up at his penis. There was little – well, not so _little_ – Dean. It was standing at attention in front of my eyes, a dribble of his seed on the tip.  
“Have at it”, he smirked at me.  
I opened my mouth, and licked the drop of the head; then gently sucked him into my mouth. As delicious as ever, I closed my eyes in enjoyment of the velvety rod in my mouth; and moved back and forth, sucking and swallowing.

I timidly looked up into Dean’s eyes, and lifted my hand to ask if I could touch him. He nodded.  
Gently cupping his testicles, I let my other hand take a hold of the inches of him I couldn’t take in my mouth. Dean ran his fingers through my hair.  
“That’s nice”, he breathed. I hummed in response, and hollowed my cheeks to tighten my mouth around his penis. Trying to take him deeper into my mouth, I relaxed my throat; and moved my head as close to him as I possibly could. My throat was beginning to tense up, and I pulled back; feeling saliva covering my hand when I did.  
Dean let out a strangled groan.  
“Lou…”, he panted. I took him out of my mouth, and smirked up at him.  
“See? It’s not so easy when you just have to stand there and…”.

Suddenly, Dean grabbed a hold of my hair, and pulled my head back hard; drawing his lips back in a sneer.  
“Careful, sweetheart”, he warned.  
“Or what?”, I rasped; my eyes almost begging him to show me just _what_.  
“Stand up”, he ordered. I got on my feet, and looked him square in the face defiantly, raising a brow at him. “So that’s how it’s gonna be”, he muttered.

Dean placed his hands on my hips, and spun me around; pressing his body against mine. His hands travelled upwards to cup my breasts, and I felt his penis – still slick from having been in my mouth – sliding against my back. I closed my eyes as Dean kissed the top of my head, and exhaled deeply.  
Suddenly he pushed me forwards, making me land on my front, on the bed. He sat down next to me, and put his arm over my back, holding me down. His hand stroked my backside.  
“You know what’s gonna happen now, don’t you…?”, he said. I could hear the smirk in his voice.  
“Uh huh”, I breathed.  
“And why is it happening?”, he asked; sliding his hand over my bottom, as if preparing it.  
“Because you’re bossy”, I said.   
He spanked one of my cheeks hard, and I yelped.  
“Try again”, he growled. I swallowed hard.  
“Because you’ve watched 50 shades one too many times”.   
He spanked the other cheek. I held in my urge to cry out.  
“Lou…”, he warned.

I shook my head; not ready to cave.  
Dean spanked both my cheeks, and let his middle finger travel down between them. I tried to spread my legs, but he got up to straddle them; holding them together. Each of his hands slapped one of my cheeks again, and he chuckled at the movement of my flesh under his hands.  
“Why am I doing this?”, he demanded.  
“Because…”. I was coming up short of snarky responses from the delicious sensation of his hands on my bottom.  
“Come on, baby”, Dean breathed, sliding his hand down between my thighs. “Tell me”.  
“Because I’m a smartass”, I whispered. He pinched the skin of my thigh. “Because I’m a smartass!”, I said louder.

Dean gently stroked my butt cheeks, leaned forwards; and kissed the back of my neck.  
“I have a feeling you liked that a little more than you should have”, he chuckled.  
“What gave it away?”, I breathed.  
He slid his hand between my legs again, and ran his fingers through my slick folds.  
“Just a hunch”, he said.

His thumb entered me, but I reached back to grab his wrist.  
“No more teasing”, I smiled. He pried my hand away.  
“I’m still in charge here”, Dean grunted with a raspy voice, and pressed his thumb down against my g-spot, making me gasp and clench around him. “You’re close, baby. Just give me one…”.  
His middle and ring finger began stroking my clit, as his thumb stroked my front wall, and soon my legs began to shake. I grasped the sheets under me, and turned my face into the mattress – crying out – as I climaxed.

Before I could come down to earth, Dean smacked my bottom again.  
“Lift it”, he ordered. I tried to get up on all fours. “No, chest down… You need to learn to listen, sweetheart”. He smacked me again; this time letting his fingers meet my sensitive folds, turning one of my aftershocks into another orgasm. I was unsure whether I was shaking, or the bed was.   
“Oh… Go…”, I whimpered.  
“You wanna Chuck out?”, he said. I shook my head. “That’s my girl”.

On shaking legs, I raised my bottom in the air, and kept my chest on the mattress. I felt the tip of Dean’s penis rub against my folds. He ran it upwards – for a short second pushing it against my ring of muscle – before lowering it again, and pushing into my vagina; with a breathy groan.  
I tried lifting myself up on my arms, when Dean pushed me between my shoulder-blades; forcing me down again. He put his hand on the back of my head, taking a hold of my hair.  
“Arch your back”, he said; using his free hand to push at my back. When I did as I was told, I felt his penis rub against my g-spot. “Is this what you want?”.  
“Yes…”, I croaked. “Please, more”. He grabbed my left butt-cheek, and dug his fingers into it.

“You feel so good like this”, Dean groaned, pushing in to me hard. I felt every inch of ripple on his hardness, moving in and out of me.   
He moved his hand down in front of me, and stroked my belly, before finding my nub, and rolling it between two fingers. The sounds of his hard thrusts were verging on the sounds you’d hear on Casa Erotica, and I let out sounds I’d only heard there as well.  
I saw white, and as Dean pressed my head down into the bed, I let out a primal growl, and came around him. Dean pulled out of me, and I collapsed.

I was still convulsing from my orgasm, as Dean grabbed the pillow from the floor, and placed it back on the bed.   
“Come here”, he breathed, and placed an arm around me, lifting me up to lay with my head on it. “You ok?”, he asked, tenderness having returned to his voice, and his gaze warm and loving. He stroked my cheek.  
“I’m perfect”, I croaked. He pecked my lips.  
“Yeah, you are”, he said, placing himself between my legs. Our eyes met, and never diverted; while Dean pushed himself into me again. “Wow… That’s tight…”, he croaked, and began thrusting.  
“That’s what happens when you make a girl…”, I began. Dean bottomed out. “Oh…!”, I yelped in pleasure.  
“You think you can give me one more?”, he breathed, as he gently thrust in to me.  
I wanted to, and I knew it wouldn’t take much; but I was also verging on overstimulation.  
“One”, I choked.

Dean pressed his open lips to mine – letting our tongues meet and stroke against each other.  
As he thrusted deeper – though not harder – in to me, my breathing grew ragged again. Dean’s pubic bone rubbed against my clit, and I met his eyes; forcing my own to stay open so I could look at him while I came undone.   
I put my legs around his hips to hold us as close as possible, and Dean kissed me gently one more time, before nodding, and grinding against me in circular motions. I put my hands on either side of his face, and felt the orgasm surge through me, as I buried myself in his gaze. My walls clenched hard, and Dean let out a throaty moan, as he came undone with me.

I never wanted to stop that perfect moment, as we just lay there, smiling at each other. Dean kissed me – deeply and passionately.   
My warmth was still throbbing, holding on to his now half hard member.   
“You’re gonna have to let go of me, unless you wanna live as conjoined twins from now on”, Dean chuckled softly.   
“Can’t help it”, I croaked.  
He gently withdrew from me, and my core settled down, though I still felt jolts through my body.   
I closed my eyes and let out a deep shuddering breath. Dean moved from between my legs, to lay next to me.

“Ok. I _did_ miss that”, he sighed, and put his arm behind his head, while his other invited me in to be held against his chest.   
“Because you’re bossy”, I teased; and circled my fingertip around his nipple.   
“You seem to like it when I am”, he said.   
“Under the right circumstances”, I admitted. “And I _did_ ask for it”.   
“In more than one way”, he grunted; rearranging himself, so he could look me in the eyes. I bit my lip as he raised a brow at me. “Are you ever gonna do as I tell you? “.   
“You’d know I was a shifter, if I did”, I laughed. “It would be a better tell than silver”.   
“Good point”, Dean chuckled, and kissed my forehead.

He yawned, and let his eyes fall shut. I stroked his jawbone, and smiled to myself; listening to his breathing settle.  
“Sleep, dancing queen”, I muttered; receiving a pinch at my bottom in response.   
Soon after, I dozed off myself.


End file.
